“WELL, SLIDE DOWN FROM THERE AND I’LL SADDLE HIM UP for you,” Young Bob told her. “I assume you’ll want to use your own saddle?”
She nodded as she slipped from Sundancer’s back. A saddle was a very personal item. She was used to this one and she was comfortable on it.
“Yes, please,” she said. Young Bob started to move toward Sundancer, but Will held up a hand to stop him.
“I think we’ll let Maddie do her own saddling,” he said. “May as well get started the way we mean to continue, and we don’t have any stable hands to help us at the cabin.”
Maddie didn’t mind saddling and bridling the horse. She’d been doing that for several years now. Young Bob hopped away toward the fence and retrieved a rope halter. He slipped it over Sundancer’s neck as Maddie removed the bridle from the Arridan.
“Nice horse,” he said, looking approvingly at Sundancer’s lines. “Got a good turn of speed, these Arridans, and a nice nature too. Pity he’s a gelding.”
Maddie slipped the bridle over Bumper’s head. The little horse actually lowered his head to allow her to do so. She stopped and looked curiously at Young Bob.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Would have liked to borrow him for a year or so. Use him in our breeding program.”
“He’s a bit fine in the limbs for a Ranger horse, isn’t he?” Will asked. In the course of his career, he’d unhorsed many armed riders by the simple
expedient of having Tug charge headlong into their horses. The Arridan’s legs were too fragile for that sort of behavior, he thought.
Bob scratched his nose thoughtfully. “Mebbe so. But we could use the speed. Breed him with something a little heavier and you’d get speed and a good solid build as well.”
Maddie had the bit and bridle set now. Bumper moved his mouth open and shut, chewing until he settled the bit into a comfortable position. Maddie quickly unbuckled the saddle and heaved it off Sundancer’s back, turning to carry it to Bumper.
The piebald pushed his neck forward to study the saddle. She felt his warm breath on her hands as he sniffed and snorted at it, his nostrils distending then contracting as he breathed in and out. After several seconds, he straightened up again and shook his head several times, as if giving her his approval.
She set it down, then fetched the saddle blanket from Sundancer’s back.
Once again, she allowed Bumper to study it, making sure that he gave it his approval. Then she spread it over his back, setting it smoothly and evenly, without wrinkles. She reached down and, with a slight grunt of effort, she hefted the saddle up and onto his back. Bumper turned his head to eye her curiously. She grinned at him.
“All right?” she asked, and he shook his mane several times. She reached under his belly to retrieve the hanging girth strap, then, pushing the saddle flap and stirrup up to expose the buckle end, she passed the girth through the buckle and heaved it tight. She hauled it in one more notch so that the saddle was firmly seated on the horse’s back. She paused, watching Bumper to see if he was going to release any pent-up breath—she’d seen Tug’s little trick when Will was saddling him over the past few weeks. But Bumper had no such guile in him. She patted his neck approvingly and he looked back at her again, moving his head up and down. For a moment, she could have sworn he was trying to speak to her. She shook her head, dismissing the thought.
She pulled the side flap and stirrup back down into position and looked at the two men who were watching her. There was something . . . expectant in the way they were looking. She glanced from one to another. She had the sensation that they knew something she didn’t.
“Before you mount up—” Young Bob began, but Will quickly cut across him.
“Is there anything you want to ask? Anything you need to know?”
A look passed between the two of them. She cocked her head to one side and smiled. The smile was just a trifle supercilious.
“I have ridden a horse before, you know,” she said.
Will nodded. “So you have.”
“And he looks pretty calm and placid.”
Will pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Calm is accurate. I’m not sure that placid is the correct choice of word.”
She smiled indulgently, looking at Bumper, standing rock steady, without the usual fidgeting that horses often went on with when they had just been saddled.
“Oh, I think it’s pretty accurate,” she said confidently.
Will made a sweeping gesture with his right hand. “Then, if you’re sure, go right ahead.”
She looked at Young Bob and he shrugged. She took the reins in her left hand and turned the stirrup so she could put her left foot into it. As she did so, Bumper turned again to study her. There was something expectant in his expression as well, she thought. Then she shook her head. Horses don’t have expressions, she told herself.
She bounded once on her right toes. She noted that Bumper stood perfectly still for her. Often, a horse would try to sidle away as a rider tried to mount. She nodded at him.
“Good boy,” she said and swung herself easily up and into the saddle.
And all hell broke loose.
Bumper seemed to spring off the ground from all four feet, arching his back and throwing her off balance. Then he came down with a teeth-jarring crash and promptly put his head down, exploding his rump up into the air.
Maddie was a good rider but she’d never felt a horse buck like this before.
In addition, she hadn’t yet gained a firm seat, and she felt herself sliding off to the right.
Bumper exploded away again in another of those spring-heeled leaps. But this time he went left, out from under her. She realized she would never regain her seat and kicked her left foot free of the stirrup. It was all too obvious that she was going to fall. Bumper started to rear back on his hind legs. She leaned forward to compensate and realized, too late, that he was foxing.
His head went down again and his rear quarters shot into the air like a giant equine catapult.
She felt herself leave the saddle, soaring up and forward over the horse.
She twisted in the air, hoping to land somehow on her feet. And she nearly made it. But she was too far off balance to manage it completely, and she crashed into the dust of the saddling yard, the force of her fall driving the breath from her lungs.
Winded and groaning, she lay in the dust, desperately trying to drag air back into her temporarily empty lungs. She opened her eyes and realized that Bumper had moved to look down on her, a quizzical expression on his face.
He snorted softly, blowing warm air onto her face. It was almost as if he were checking to see if she was all right.
She rolled onto her side and came up on one knee, looking around the saddling yard. Young Bob and Will were watching her with knowing expressions. Sundancer was looking quite alarmed. Tug seemed to be smiling quietly.
Maddie stood, a little shakily, and glared at them.
“You knew that was going to happen,” she said accusingly.
Will considered the statement for a second or so. Then nodded.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact,” he said. He waited until Maddie had beaten some of the dust from her clothes, then went on. “It’s just you’ve been a little . . . condescending about our horses,” he said. “I thought it might be useful if you saw they’re not all solid and stolid and plodding. That they have a certain amount of fire in them.”
She rubbed her back painfully. “You’ve got that right,” she said. She glared at Bumper, who approached her now and bumped her gently with his forehead. There was no sign of wickedness or contrary behavior in his eyes.
They were big and dark and liquid and friendly.
“Why did you do that?” she asked him.
“’Cause he’s been trained that way,” Young Bob told her.
She looked at him in disbelief. “You’ve trained him to buck me off whenever I mount him?” She couldn’t see much future in having a horse who behaved that way.
But Young Bob was shaking his head. “He’s trained to buck off anyone who hasn’t used his permission phrase.”
She frowned at that and Will explained. “All our horses have a code phrase,” he said. “If you use it when you first meet a Ranger horse, he’ll allow you to mount him and ride him with no problems. If you don’t, he’ll buck like Gorlog himself until he throws you off. Which, in your case, didn’t
“Gorlog?” she asked. “Who’s Gorlog?”
“A very useful Skandian demigod,” he told her. But she was still absorbing the rest of what he said.
“So Ranger horses have some secret code? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You’ve never heard of anyone stealing a Ranger horse, either.” Young Bob cackled in delight.
“Which has come in useful several times over my life,” Will told her.
Again, Maddie frowned, not quite believing them. It all sounded too far-fetched. “So I have to say this . . . code word . . . whenever I mount up?”
Young Bob shook his head. “Just the first time. After that, he’ll know you.”
“So, what do we say?” She addressed the question to Will, but he pointed to Young Bob.
“It’s different for each horse,” Will said. “You might as well know that for Tug it’s ‘Do you mind?’ There may come a time when you have to ride him, so it’s worthwhile your knowing it.”
Maddie looked to Young Bob now. She still wasn’t sure if she believed all this. She wondered if she was letting herself in for another bone-shuddering dumping from Bumper’s back.
“So?” she said.
Young Bob frowned thoughtfully for a second or two, then replied, “With Bumper, you say ‘Don’t break me.’”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “‘Don’t break me’?” she said.
Both Will and Young Bob replied in a triumphant chorus. “Don’t say it to us! Say it to the horse!”
“You whisper it in his ear just before you mount,” Will added. She recalled now that when she had gone to mount Bumper before, he had turned to her as if expecting something. Maybe, she thought, just maybe, they were telling her the truth.
She approached the little piebald again, crossing the reins and setting them on the saddle pommel. She stood for a second or two, and sure enough, Bumper turned his head to her. She leaned up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.
“Don’t break me.”
Bumper nodded his head, as if satisfied. Before he could change his mind,
she put her left foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle.
She tensed, waiting, fearing the worst. Five seconds passed. Then ten.
Bumper was as solid and unmoving as a wooden horse. Gradually, she realized that they had been telling her the truth.
Someday, she promised herself, she would get them back for this.
“Walk him round,” Young Bob told her. “Get the feel of him.”
She touched Bumper with her heels, and instantly, he came to life. They walked, then trotted around the saddling yard, and she marveled at the lightness and springiness of his step. She had thought the little Ranger horses appeared stolid and heavy. But once she was astride him, she realized how false this impression had been.
Bumper stepped lightly and eagerly. He responded to the lightest touch on the reins, the slightest pressure of her knees.
“Press with your left knee,” Will called, and she did so—although now that she was aware of Bumper’s response level, she applied only the lightest pressure.
Instantly, he danced sideways. She pressed with her right knee and he danced several paces the other way. Then she used both knees and he continued his straight-ahead progress.
What she had seen—or thought she had seen—and what she was experiencing were two completely different matters. Young Bob moved past her as she circled the yard and unhitched the gate, clearing the way to the open fields beyond.
“Take him for a run,” he said.
She urged the little horse through the gate and touched her heels to his side again, loosening the tension on the reins.
The response was startling. Bumper accelerated like an arrow from a bow, so quickly that she was nearly left behind. But he sensed her momentary loss of balance and slowed, allowing her to regain her seat. Then he was off again, neck stretched out, legs reaching in great, bounding strides.
The speed was incredible. She had never ridden so fast in her life.
You didn’t expect this, did you?
“No, I didn’t,” she replied, shocked to find that she was talking to her horse—and, even more surprising, her horse had seemed to talk to her.
From the paddock, Will and Young Bob watched the horse and rider receding farther and farther into the distance.
“You’ve done well, Bob,” Will told him.
Young Bob was shading his eyes against the bright sun, watching Maddie and Bumper get acquainted.
“She’s a good rider. Got a balanced seat and nice soft hands. You could see that from her Arridan’s mouth.”
They fell silent for some minutes, watching the horse and rider, hearing the faint drumming of Bumper’s hooves on the grass. Then, in a mock casual tone that didn’t fool Young Bob for a moment, Will asked:
“I don’t suppose Bellerophon is around, is he?”
Young Bob cackled with delight.
“Wondered how long it’d take you to ask! He’s in the stable.”
